


Candle-lit Skin

by Star_dancer54



Series: Dear god old stuff. Like, seriously old. [17]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: M/M, Plot What Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-08-06
Updated: 2005-08-06
Packaged: 2019-02-14 04:13:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 834
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12999615
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Star_dancer54/pseuds/Star_dancer54
Summary: “Strip for me, and make it good.”





	Candle-lit Skin

“Strip for me, and make it good.”

He sent his lover a filthy smile but left his tie on. His glasses also remained, but that was all.

“Now dance for me.”

A wicked smirk and he began to dance. His lover flicked the wand and a harsh beat ripped through the otherwise silent room. Panting echoed through the bedroom, but it was neither lover. The music really had only one meaning.

Sex. That was the beat, the meaning. He knew that one of them would give in (give up) to the other in only a few bare minutes, but he didn’t know which one it would be. It made no difference- they would both get what they wanted (needed) tonight.

He writhed in the middle of the room, touching himself and smirking all the time at his lover. His lover’s face was blank. For now.

/More human than human/

With another writhe towards his lover, he dropped to the floor. He heard a soft noise and knew that he was fucked.

But it was going to be one hell of a ride.

He crawled towards his lover on the bed, slowly, lazily. His eyes narrowed as white teeth sank into pale lips. Someone was on edge. Though as his erection brushed the ground from a particularly long stretch, he had to admit that this was just as much of a turn-on for him as for his lover.

After a small eternity, he reached the edge of the bed. He crouched there, still swaying his hips just enough to bring them to the attention of the bed’s occupant. He slipped his hand up the side of the bed and onto it, slow as a sleepy serpent. His other hand followed a similar path, and they met on the top. He knew that his hands and the very top of his head were all that was visible to his lover. He lifted his head and his eyes were blazing, just as much as those of the man above him were.

He pulled himself up, making the process torturous for himself by teasingly brushing the head of his erection against the duvet as his knee settled on the bed. He made a small noise and it was echoed. He slid his hands towards the pale legs in front of him, but before he could touch them the legs were moved higher up on the bed.

“I said, /dance/”

So he pushed himself upright and danced on the bed, making every movement exaggerated until there was no way that his lover could resist laying a pale hand on his leg. It slid up his inner leg, teased his inner thighs. He moaned and spread his legs wider, trying to keep his balance. The hand cupped his balls, and he faltered. He slid down, his legs unable to hold him. The grip on him pulled him forward, towards his lover.

He didn’t try to get loose.

His legs were shoved out of the way and his lover’s legs moved between his own. He was pulled higher on his lover’s body, until he was straddling narrow hips.

“Keep dancing.”

Said in a hiss, this order was impossible to ignore.

He writhed above his lover, gripping those narrow hips to hold him to reality. Then reality slipped away as a finger slipped into his arse. He finally moaned and bucked on the finger, trying to drive it deeper. Words were torn out of him as a second finger slipped in and made a scissoring movement within.

“Oh, gods.”

He could feel the smirk as his lover pulled himself up to press an aristocratic face against his chest.

A third finger, and he was swearing and begging.

“P-please, now...” He slipped out of English and continued in Parseltongue. “I need it now.”

He felt a sharp jolt underneath him and the feeling of the fingers leaving him as something larger slid in. His back arched and he let out a whine of need. Thin hands gripped his hips and yanked him closer.

Finally.

The music played on without them paying it any heed, ending and starting another song. A roll of hips and he was trying his damnedest to hold on.

/… like Chinese torture, she’s just someone’s favorite daughter/

He didn’t stand a chance. A few more hits on his prostrate and he was crying out, cursing God and blessing his lover with equal fervor. His lover’s grip became painful and a violent thrust later his lover was crying out as well.

A few seconds later his lover slipped free and pulled him close. As he was drifting off to sleep, he felt his lover pull away and stand. He sat upright, wide awake.

“Where are you going?”

His lover quirked an eyebrow. His lover brandished his wand, and as he was preparing to clean up the evidence of a very good time, Harry grabbed his elbow and pulled him close for a wet, messy, very hot kiss.

His lover smirked.

~End~


End file.
